Golden
by LostNSpace
Summary: Chance has been critically injured in a robbery attempt. Will Chloe finally put her past with Billy behind her and see Chance as the man who deserves her love?
1. Chapter 1

***I make no claim to the characters and details of _The Young and the Restless._ This is pure romantic fun written by a fan_.*_**

**_*ALL REVIEWS WELCOME! Feedback is much desired!*_**

Golden

A Chance and Chloe Fan Fic

by LostNSpace

Chapter One

Chloe couldn't take her gaze off his face.

He, her all-American hero, who had survived three tours of duty in Iraq, who always seemed so solid, so self-assured, so red-blooded and impervious--slept pale and restless now in the dim hospital room, machines beeping, wires plugged into his veins. He'd lost so much blood at the hands of that crazy bastard in the alley. Who knew a dull little pocket knife could wreak such damage?

When they first brought him in after the robbery, the doctors weren't sure he would live. Nina and Jill wept and worried so much, the nursing staff sent them out of the room.

Chloe came after they'd left, and stayed. Dry-eyed, she sat like a statue beside his bed and never took her attention from his deathly still form. She knew he would pull through. She _knew_. He had so much to live for. His family, for example, who loved him for everything good and golden about him; his bright and clean-scrubbed future, the promises he'd made to himself to do something of value in this godforsaken world…

He jerked in his sleep. The IV cord moved with him and he winced, giving a shaky sigh when Chloe soothed him. She released his fingers long enough to adjust the hospital blanket over his chest, then reclaimed his warm, dry hand. Those blunt, callused, capable fingers. He'd never touched a woman the way she wanted him to touch her.

If he didn't recover, he'd never get the chance.

_Chance_.

_I'm waiting for the right woman_, he'd told her over coffee. She'd barely kept from spewing her latte across the table. How could someone so smart and honorable and sweet and…and hot!--go for so long without the good stuff?

Of course sex wasn't truly _the good stuff _unless feelings were involved, and somehow, while she wasn't looking, while she was using Chance's easy-going, mega-appealing company to fill the hole Billy had left, feelings _had_ become involved. Feelings that turned her stomach upside down and squeezed her throat and burned her eyes.

Tears welled on her lashes, blurring the image of his sleeping face. Damn him! She'd been strangely _comfortable_ on her unhappy, unrequited treadmill with Billy as the carrot dangling just out of reach. Then Chance had come along and ruined everything, shown her she could have fun, that it was okay to be herself, okay to laugh so hard her stomach hurt and cry through a box of tissues at some ridiculous chick flick. He _liked _chick flicks, for chrissakes! He was everything soft and hard a man--a human being--should be. He made her realize that being cool was overrated. In fact, he appreciated all the un-cool things about her she'd been so skilled at hiding in the fashion world. And he liked babies. He held Delia every chance he got, fed her, changed her diapers, dealt with all the icky stuff like a champ. He liked Chloe's child. and the fact that Chloe was a mother.

He made her feel beautiful.

It was all his fault that feelings were so definitely involved here.

Lifting his hand to her face, Chloe rubbed her cheek against it, then studied his fingers in the dim light. They were still slightly bloodstained from where he'd pulled the knife from his own side. He'd been off duty, having just left a Chinese restaurant with dinner in hand, when he came across a girl being assaulted in an alley near a popular college bar. Chloe didn't know the details beyond that, only that he'd hit the pavement with a gaping hole between his ribs and the bloody knife still in hand--but not before he'd slammed his assailant against the alley wall, knocking out the bastard and saving the day.

The thought of Chance being brave enough to remove a knife from his own body sent a fresh sting of tears to her eyes, and she dabbed at them with the back of her wrist, trying not to smear her mascara. She wouldn't cry like the others. He needed confidence and optimism from the people who loved him.

_Loved him_.

Yes, okay. So maybe she loved him a little. Maybe she'd been lying awake at night for weeks while sweet and steamy dreams of Chance firmly shoved aside the old Billy fantasies.

When he woke up--_oh, please wake up, Chance!--_she would tell him all of it and never keep her feelings to herself again. And then she would show him the good stuff.

The door swished open behind her, and Chloe turned to scowl at the bustling nurse, who turned on a bright light and put an injection into Chance's IV.

"Do you have to be so noisy?"

At Chloe's hissed complaint, Chance moved and muttered something unintelligible.

"Better to bother him now with a little pain medication than let him wake up in agony," the nurse said matter-of-factly as she adjusted the drip on the IV. "You've got five minutes, honey, then it's time to go."

Before Chloe could respond, the nurse turned off the light again and squeaked out into the hallway with her rubber-soled shoes, shutting the door a little too firmly behind her.

_Five more minutes_. They seemed so precious, ticked by too quickly. She'd taken her time with him for granted. He'd not only desired her, he cared about her, protected her, wanted to make her happy. He treated her like she mattered, ignored the games she played. No one like him would ever walk through her life again. She didn't deserve him.

"Chance," she whispered in despair.

He stirred, mumbled, "I can't find you."

"I'm right here." She kissed his hand and reached to stroke the thick, silky strands of his military-short hair, the warmth flowing through her chest almost painful in its sweetness. "I'll be here when you wake up, soldier boy. And every day after, if you want."

For a crazy moment it seemed his presence was all around her, conscious, vibrant, recovered. She felt him everywhere; his tenderness, his strength, his life force, his desire for her so great, he would push through any barrier to reach her.

But no. When she focused on him again, the morphine injection had taken effect. The tension drained from his body and his lashes fluttered once, and he sank to a netherworld where she couldn't reach him.

(To be continued...)


	2. Chapter 2

***I make no claim to the characters and details of _The Young and the Restless._ This is pure romantic fun written by a fan_.*_**

**_*ALL REVIEWS WELCOME! Feedback is much desired!*_**

Golden

By LostNSpace

Chapter Two

When Chance was discharged from the hospital two weeks after the attack, Chloe felt like she could breathe again for the first time in eons. She hadn't seen him since that first night, an unbearable eternity to her aching heart. It was a nightmare to realize you loved someone and not be able to tell him immediately. Quite possibly she'd never felt a deeper agony, but something in her knew this _waiting _was penance if she was to deserve him at all. So she'd stayed clear of the hospital once he regained full consciousness. Jill, Nina and Katherine had formed a familial fortress around him, and Chloe knew better than to try to break into the sacred circle. She was nothing in the Chancellor's realm of gold and glitter. She was _less_ than nothing, and for the first time, it really stung. With Cane and Billy, she'd been hell-bent on having what she wanted, and nothing the Chancellors could do or say got in her way. But Chance had cast a spell on her, softened her, made her a person capable of…of _decency_. For the first time she wanted to be someone of value to his family…if only to honor their golden boy. And he was golden. A golden human being.

Peeking through the sheer draperies at the empty driveway, she sighed. Anxiety sat like lead in the pit of her stomach. What if he still believed she was in love with Billy? That the kiss he saw Billy plant on her--the kiss she once thought she'd wanted and in the end _did not_--was further proof that she wasn't over Billy one bit?

_Oh, take a chill pill_. Once Chance was home, there'd be plenty of time to sit down with him and explain the truth--if he'd listen. As intimate as they'd become in the past few weeks, he still held his cards close to his chest, and she didn't know him well enough to guess whether he'd believe her. She only knew she had to try. She was a fool in love, a sweeter and more awful state than she'd ever dreamed of experiencing. Loving Billy had been _Disneyland_ compared to this.

"I think they're home," Esther sing-songed as she came through the sitting room. Chloe pushed aside the sheers again and the two women peeked out. Sure enough, the limousine had pulled in front of the mansion and parked.

Chloe's stomach did a series of impressive backward flips as the chauffeur came around the back of the car and opened the rear passenger door.

"Poor Chance," Esther whispered, mindless of her daughter's mental chaos. "Do you think he can walk?"

"He was stabbed, Mother, not dismembered." Letting the curtains drop, Chloe squirmed around her mother, rose from the settee and smoothed invisible wrinkles from the caramel cashmere dress she'd chosen for Chance's homecoming. The Chancellors might think she was the devil, but at least she'd be a tastefully attired one.

Despite the urge to dash to the door and throw it open herself, she stayed where she was. In fact, her Louboutin boots felt glued to the spot as Esther disappeared into the foyer to do the honors. The sound of high heels on slate tile and female voices, all talking at once, reached her ears. "Welcome home, Chance," she heard her mother gush. "You look absolutely wonderful."

"Let's not tarry, Esther," came Jill's impatient response. "I'm sure he's tired. Are his bed sheets turned down?"

"Of course! And an extra feather comforter, Chance, and your favorite hot chocolate already on the night stand--"

"Esther, you've done too much." Chance's low protest slid beneath all the female clucking, bringing a faint smile to Chloe's lips despite her quivering knees.

The cluster of females encircling the royal patient moved at last into the sitting room entrance, but all Chloe could focus on was Chance's head and shoulders towering above them. _Oh, God, oh God_. The sight of him was as sweet as it was jolting. His dark hair had grown, the hollow cheekbones and sharp line of his jaw poignant evidence of his weight loss since the night she'd sat vigil by his bed.

He was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

"Really, I can manage. But thank you," he told the women, whose Three-Stooges-like attempt to help him move hindered his progress more than helped it. "Thanks for taking such good care of me." Holding his wounded side, he leaned to kiss the top of Nina's head, then Katherine's and Jill's…and Esther's, too. _The women in his life,_ Chloe thought wryly. They were like a rabid fan club--not that she could blame them. No matter how sore he was, how tired and wounded, he remained ever the gentleman, so conscientious and tender. From the moment she'd met him, Chloe had recognized that trait and liked him because of it. Now she loved him because of it, and prayed his supply of tolerance and affection would extend to her.

He took a single, painful step down into the sitting room, still unaware that she lingered near the settee like a nervous rabbit. _For crying out loud, Chloe, say something!_

"Well, look who's risen from the dead." The dry comment, born of sheer self-consciousness, was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Chance's head shot up. The women in the foyer behind him went silent and aimed their laser beams on her, their expressions alternately stern and puckered.

Chance, though, recovered. And smiled. Just a little. A rueful, exasperated curve of his beautiful mouth.

"Hello there, stranger." He gripped the back of a chair as he passed it and approached her, slow but sure. "Long time no see."

The aching truth--that she had been there for him when he needed it the most--rushed to her lips, but she swallowed it and waved a careless hand. "I would've come to see you in the hospital, but it was kind of hard getting around the sentry, if you get my drift."

He stopped a foot away and frowned. "You weren't there at the beginning? But I thought…"

"Nope. Wasn't me." She kept her face carefully blank, forcing herself to hold his gaze. He looked at her for the longest time, searching her eyes for something…no doubt the truth, which she so wanted to give him right then and there…but the Macbeth Witches watched them from the foyer like hawks, the silence was too loud, and suddenly she remembered how she'd played with his feelings, how horrible she'd been to use him as a distraction, how she didn't deserve a bit of his goodness…and with her cheeks burning, tore her gaze from his.

Without another word to her, Chance turned away. "You know what, Esther? That bed is sounding pretty good after all. If you all don't mind, I think I'll turn in."

"Of course, darling." Nina rushed forward to take his arm. "Henry's already taken your bag upstairs, and I'll ride up in the elevator with you."

A tolerant smile tugged at his mouth and he let his mother lead him away without looking at Chloe again.

All the light seemed to flee the room when he was gone. The urge to cry had tightened her throat so much she couldn't speak, but she banished it through sheer force of will and wandered back to the window, staring unseeingly beyond the manicured lawn.

When Katherine and Jill collapsed on the sofa, she turned and said blithely, "Thank God he's home, huh?"

"You'll let him rest," Jill retorted, "if you really care about him."

Chloe took the blow in silence. Not even Katherine, who usually was so kind, came to her defense. When she glanced at the older woman, Katherine looked away.

(To be continued...)


	3. Chapter 3

***I make no claim to the characters and details of _The Young and the Restless._ This is pure romantic fun written by a fan_.*_**

**_*ALL REVIEWS WELCOME! Feedback is much desired!*_**

Golden

By LostNSpace

Chapter Three

If Chloe saw Chance at all in the next two weeks, it was usually from a distance. He took long walks on the estate, his two rescue mutts bounding at his heels. She'd glanced out her bedroom window more than once to see him swimming laps in the heated pool, too, his lean body knifing through the winter morning's steam as it rose from the water. Soon he'd be whole again.

If they happened to pass in the hall or find themselves in the same room, he always spoke. Smiled politely. Looked right through her. And inevitably found somewhere else he had to be.

On the fifteenth morning of her forced abstinence from Chance, Chloe woke with a jerk. She'd been dreaming of him--of floating away from him on a ship named something like _The USS Chloe's Biggest Mistake_--when the silence penetrated her sleep. She jolted upright and listened. It was too quiet. The early sun streamed through the sheer draperies; Delia should be awake by now. She'd had a bad night--just like her sleepless mother--but still, she should be ready for a diaper change and bottle.

Throwing on her robe, Chloe dashed into the nursery and peeked down into an empty crib. Her pulse picked up speed, but she knew better than to panic. Maybe Esther had gotten her up this morning. Or Jill, even though the woman didn't have a maternal bone in her _haute couture_-clad body.

Barefoot and disheveled, she headed downstairs, following the warm scent of coffee. When she pushed through the kitchen's swinging door, the sight that greeted her paused her at the threshold. Her mother, dressed in that ever-lovin' maid's uniform, stood stirring something delectable on the stove, and Esther wasn't alone. Chance sat at the table with a contented Delia nestled in the crook of his arm.

He was saying something about Iraq, the difficulties there, the sweetness of home, and Esther was slipping in her usual "You poor boy" and "We're all so glad you're safe and sound."

At the squeak of the door, both adults stopped in mid-conversation to look at Chloe.

Relief washed over her at the sight of her daughter, already fed and traitorously happy in the curve of Chance's strong arm. This was followed by the realization that she'd burst into the kitchen with zero grace, looking like complete hell.

"My child was missing," she announced, self-consciousness warming her ears as she let the door swing shut behind her.

Chance immediately got to his feet and came around the table to meet her. "I heard her crying. When I looked in on you, you were out cold, so I changed her and brought her down to Esther for her bottle." Humor tugged at his mouth. "I should've awakened you, but you were comatose, Chlo. I'm sorry."

_Chlo_. Like the old days, when he smiled more, acted as if he liked her, and didn't keep his distance. She swallowed and touched the baby's silken cheek. "Delia didn't seem to mind."

When she looked up at him again, he was watching her, his expression unreadable.

"I'm so surprised you slept through Delia's crying, Kate," Esther said from the stove, a thread of disapproval edging the comment.

"I never do, Mother," Chloe retorted. "It's just…I had a rough night. Insomnia or something. It's been happening a lot lately."

"For me, too," Chance said.

Chloe squint at him. "You?"

"'Fraid so." He glanced down and fingered the tattered edge of her robe's belt. "What do you think is causing this…this sleeplessness we're both going through?"

"Thoughts," she answered, swaying toward him ever so slightly. "Ruminations. Regrets."

His eyebrows shot up in mock fascination. "Regrets?"

"Lots of them."

He didn't smile. He only stared down at the piece of belt in his fingers, his thumb whisking back and forth over the threadbare edge. Chloe felt that touch along every electrified nerve in her body. All she had to do was lean forward a little and his lips would be right there…those soft, sensitive, incredible lips.

When he looked up again, his gaze went to her mouth, as though he'd read her thoughts.

Whatever Esther was frying made a popping sound that jerked them both from their trance.

Cheeks hot, Chloe lifted a hand to smooth her wrecked hair. The tangled strands felt like a bird's nest. And here she stood, in her true, most unglamorous state, before the man whose opinion mattered more than anyone's…and she could do absolutely nothing except straighten her shoulders and lift her chin.

"So anyway, Chance, thanks for saving the day." She sounded scary-cheerful to her own ears. "I mean, it was a nice thing to do, letting me sleep like that."

He twisted so that Delia was within Chloe's reach. "Want to take her?"

Chloe studied her child, who was so happy cuddled against the handsome man's body. _Like mother, like daughter. _"She'll scream bloody murder if I take her from you."

Chance laughed. "Okay, then, guess I'll keep her a little longer. Coffee?"

"How about some breakfast, dear?" Esther said from the stove, clueless to the crazy roller coaster ride of sexual tension playing out behind her. "Something besides your usual bowl of cereal? You're so thin these days, and the circles under your eyes--"

"Mother." _God_, this couldn't get any worse. "I'll have whatever you guys are having. And coffee."

"Let me grab you a cup," Chance said as he headed for the coffeemaker with baby in arm. "I work well one-handed."

Confusion battered Chloe as she sank onto a kitchen chair. Why was he being so damn nice after days of avoiding her?

_Maybe he isn't avoiding you_, whispered a voice in the back of her mind, a reasonable voice she usually ignored. _Maybe he's waiting for you._

Right. That was rich.

When he set the mug in front of her, she cupped it in both hands and took a grateful sip. The coffee was pungent, black, and hot, just like she liked it. "Nectar of the gods," she sighed, finally relaxing a little.

He seated himself across the table with Delia and studied Chloe over the napkin holder. "Esther's right, you know. You _have_ lost weight."

"Way to join forces with the evil maternal force." She ducked her head and took another sip, hiding behind her mug. "I don't know how you can tell anything about my figure when I'm wearing a bulky robe."

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I just know. You're not eating enough."

Out of nowhere, anger rose like fire in her chest. "You must be joking. You haven't spoken five words to me in two weeks. You leave the room as soon as I come in. You make huge circles around the property to avoid crossing my path. So how, for God's sake, do you know I'm not eating?"

"Because I look at you," he replied, his tone matching hers in edginess. "I know your face, your body--"

"Oh, really? Would that _looking_ you do be before or after you decided to hate me?"

"I don't hate you."

Her throat tightened with the urge to cry, but she held his steady gaze with wide, dry eyes. "Maybe you should hate me. Maybe you don't know me as well as you think, soldier boy."

A muscle leaped in his jaw and he leaned closer, but before he could speak, Esther broke the spell by placing two plates loaded with omelets in front of them. "And maybe if you eat, you'll feel better. Both of you."

Chloe cursed and pushed back her chair, torn between fighting or fleeing. Too much emotion here. Too much want. Oh, how she wanted to touch him, kiss the frown from his lips and take them back to the innocent, trusting place they'd been only three weeks ago!

But she did none of that. In typical Chloe fashion, she came out swinging instead. "You've made it abundantly clear how you feel about me, Chance. So what I do or don't do is none of your business, from what I eat to how many hours I sleep, to who I kiss, or to...to…" His astonished expression, and the ensuing shame that washed over her, only enraged her more. "So just back off, damn you! If you're not going to trust me or believe in me, get out of my life!"

Delia squirmed in Chance's arm and began to wail.

"Would you two like me to take the baby and give you some privacy?" Esther ventured softly. "I can clean up these dishes later…"

Chance offered the older woman a brittle smile. "Thanks, Esther, but I think this conversation is finished. And the food looks great."

"Then eat. It's too early for all this bickering. I'll take Delia so you can finish breakfast." Flashing Chloe a disapproving scowl over her shoulder, she held out her hands for the child.

Chance brushed his lips against the baby's downy hair, then handed her to her grandmother. Then, without looking at Chloe again, he picked up his fork and ate his breakfast.

And Chloe, hot-faced and defeated, abandoned her untouched plate and left the room, her outburst still echoing in her own ears.

(To be continued...)


	4. Chapter 4

***I make no claim to the characters and details of _The Young and the Restless._ This is pure romantic fun written by a fan_.*_**

**_*ALL REVIEWS WELCOME! Feedback is much desired!*_**

_**Note: This chapter has been rated "M" rating for adult content.**_

Golden

By LostNSpace

Chapter Four

Chloe peeked into Delia's crib and studied her sleeping child's cherubic face. Delia looked so peaceful, it was hard to believe only an hour ago she'd been wailing loud enough to wake the dead. Obviously she'd inherited her mother's moods, and tonight was a doozy…for daughter _and_ mother.

With a sigh, Chloe moved a stuffed bear away from the baby's head and silently withdrew from the room, pulling the nursery door closed behind her.

The big house was silent, like a giant beast hibernating in the snowy Wisconsin woods. She felt swallowed by it, so alone, like she was the only soul alive for miles. Sleep was so far out reach, it wasn't even funny. In her current state of angst, all she could think to do was creep downstairs for a cup of chamomile tea. Not that chamomile ever really knocked her out, but it would relax her, warm her shivery bones.

Returning to her room, she donned her old shabby robe and a pair of thick socks, then headed down the silent corridor, past the bedrooms of the _grande dames_, past Chance's room. His door was shut tight, no light seeping beneath it. How wonderful that he had no problem sleeping after their argument. Typical man.

As she descended the staircase, a flickering glow from the sitting room caught her attention. She paused, gripping the banister. To her sleep-deprived eyes, it looked like the house was on fire.

Forgetting furtiveness, she clambered down the remaining stairs, her stocking feet slipping on the foyer's slate floor as she rounded the corner and bounded into the sitting room.

There was a fire, all right--in the fireplace. Crackling warmly, its glow casting serpentine shadows in shades of gold across every wall. And watching her from his reclined position on the sofa was Chance.

_Crap._ She could run for it, but making a dash for the staircase would mark her a coward. Of course, hanging around would make her a glutton for punishment. Especially because he looked so…appealing. Even from where she stood, five feet from the back of the sofa, she could tell he wore a white military T-shirt that wouldn't do much to hide his muscled torso. His dark hair was all mussed, too, curlier now that it had grown out.

What should she do?

She stopped behind a wingback chair and crossed her arms across her breasts, choosing the weapon of pithiness. "Well. This is awkward."

He ran a hand through his hair and twisted to get a better look at her. "I, uh, couldn't sleep."

"Me neither."

"What's your damage?" he asked with a faint smile, laying his arm across the back of the sofa. "Thoughts? Ruminations? Regrets?"

She made a face at his mocking of her earlier remarks. "All of the above, and more."

"Me, too." He let his gaze slide over her sloppy ponytail and makeup-less features, down her shabby robe to her socks. When he was done with the visual examination, he returned his attention to her burning face. "Want to join me? Misery loves company."

She glanced toward the foyer. "Oh. I don't know. I was going to get a cup of tea."

"I've got beer." He held up an amber bottle. "Tea is for sissies, Abbott."

He obviously knew just what to say to get her going. Biting back a reluctant smile, Chloe moved from behind the wingback chair and approached him. When she reached the sofa, she leaned to look at the six-pack near his feet. "Really, Detective. _Beer_?"

"The cheap, fraternity-house kind, too. And there's plenty more where this came from."

She moved closer, shivering despite the radiant warmth from the fireplace. "I didn't even know you drank."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he said solemnly as she came around and sat a safe distance from him on the sofa. "Like how many hours I sleep, who I kiss…"

She closed her eyes and held up a hand. "Okay. Okay. I get it. I was a complete jerk this morning."

"I was a bigger one." He grabbed a new bottle from the six pack at his foot, popped open the cap, and handed it to her. "Here's to the fine art of being a jerk."

"And ruminations."

"And regrets."

Smiling at each other, they clinked bottles and took long draughts.

When Chance lowered his beer, he wiped a thumb across his lips and said, "We need to talk."

_Oh, God_. "We do?" At his lifted brow, she quickly amended, "Okay. Yes. We do."

"You go first."

She swallowed, trying to find words he wouldn't reject. True, it was a positive sign he wanted to have this little chat, but Chloe knew better than to get her hopes up. She was a master at screwing up the good things that came her way, and Chance was definitely a good thing.

He was the best thing.

So she said nothing for a long time, just looked at him, taking in the tight stretch of his government-issue T-shirt across his shoulders, the baggy plaid pajama bottoms he wore, his bare feet...jeez, how could bare feet be so sexy?

"Chlo?"

"Yes." She took another swig of beer for courage and turned to mirror his position, elbow propped on the sofa's back, one knee crooked an inch from his on the cushion. "I feel terrible about the way things have been lately. You know…between us." The words came haltingly, painful and awkward. "I know you don't believe I'm over Billy. I know you think I used you to make him jealous. And maybe at first…maybe you were right."

Chance said nothing, just watched her in the flickering firelight.

"And then…" Her finger traced the lip of the bottle she'd tucked in the crook of her knee. "Then I realized that when I spent time with you, I felt happy. Relaxed. I wasn't all wired and wondering what you were thinking about me. You made it clear what you thought about me, and..." A giggle of hysteria rose in her throat and she squelched it. "Let's be frank here. Any woman would be lucky to be looked at the way you looked at me. I liked it. I wanted you to keep looking, because I was starting to look back, but then Billy screwed everything up--no, I screwed it all up, and now you don't look at me that way anymore." She was babbling, tottering on the edge of losing her cool. Sucking in a breath, she stole a glance at him. "I played games, like I always do. I'm not used to nice guys, Chance. I'm used to the Billys of the world. So I messed up, and then you walked away. You wouldn't play. And I loved you for that. I wanted…I didn't know how much I wanted you until I lost you."

He looked down and fiddled with his beer, but still didn't speak.

Tears tightened Chloe's throat, welled on her lashes, and at last she let them flow after so many days of pride holding them captive. "The ironic thing is that you happened to walk in on Billy laying this huge kiss on me, a kiss I didn't want, a kiss that made me feel nothing except how much I wanted _you_, not _him_. But I knew you wouldn't hear me out, and you didn't. And then you got hurt in that alley, and I was so afraid I'd lose you, I knew then how much I--" She stopped just short of the painful truth. "It doesn't matter. But I want you to know, even if I never gain your trust, Chance, I don't want Billy. I'll never want Billy again. You outshine any man I've ever known. You've ruined them all for me."

_You've ruined them all, golden boy. _A sob caught the last of her confession and she covered her face with a hand, broken and not one bit relieved. It was all out now. All her cards were on the table, and if history did its usual comin'-around-again, hers was a losing hand.

Chance leaned to set his bottle on the floor. She heard the gentle thud it made, then the slight pop of his kneecaps as he shifted closer to her. "Chloe. Chloe, hey." His warm fingers encircled her wrist and drew her hand away from her face. "Don't cry like that. Don't." He cupped her cheeks and tenderly wiped her tears with his thumbs, his dark eyes searching hers. "Ah, Chloe. What am I going to do with you?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "You could kiss me. That would _totally_ throw me off."

"Yeah?" He shifted even closer, his fingers sliding into her hair, dislodging her ponytail. "Think that will solve all our problems?"

"Seriously?" Scared, elated, she reached out and touched his jaw, feeling the rough growth of whiskers against her palm. She'd wanted to touch him for so long like this. Such a simple caress. Such an intimate one. "Far be it from me to advise you, but it might do wonders if we act out all this frustration instead of talk."

He was so close, the heat of his body warmed her, his clean scent filling her senses and seducing her, utterly. He was so innocent. So decent. So desirable.

"Please, Chance," she whispered. "Please just kiss me and make all this go away."

Something in his face changed, a flash of doubt, before intent darkened his features. "Okay," he murmured. And then his mouth was on hers, hungry, soft, nudging her lips apart to seek her tongue, breaking apart her defenses to claim her heart.

Instantly Chloe knew it wasn't enough just to kiss him. She scrambled onto her knees, nearly dumping her forgotten beer on the Persian carpet. Chance caught it, set it aside, and drew her onto his lap to face him, her knees straddling his thighs. It was too intimate a position, and not nearly indecent enough. Her hands sought the hem of his T-shirt, slid beneath it and found sleek, hot skin; he pushed her robe off her shoulders until it caught in the crook of her elbows and she impatiently shook it to the floor. Then his hands were under her shirt too, stroking her naked back, soothing and arousing at the same time. For an inexperienced lover, he was doing just fine.

They kissed like it was the first time, then like it was the last, flowing soft into ravenous and back again. All the while, a fine tremor ran through Chance's muscles beneath Chloe's hands. She couldn't have guessed he had so much fire in him, he kept it so well hidden beneath his soldier's disguise. She'd known he could kiss--_God, could he kiss_--but when he turned her and lowered her to the sofa cushions, slid between her legs and moved against her in sinuous time to the rhythm of their mouths, she nearly came apart.

"You," he breathed against her throat. "You're it, Chloe. You're it for me."

She nudged him up far enough to meet his piercing gaze. "I am?"

"You're the one." He kissed away her smile, his touch sliding beneath her pajama top to bracket her ribs. "I tried to stop it, but it just…happened."

"Well, I'm glad your dastardly plan to avoid me failed so miserably."

He gave a breathless laugh. "I've been in hell." Then his humor faded and he closed his eyes, his palm sliding over her breast for the first time. "Oh."

"Oh…" She arched into his touch, following his lead as he shifted his hips just so and rocked against her. He moved like he'd seduced a thousand women. How could he have kept all this passion in check?

When he licked her nipple through her thin shirt, she nearly hit the roof. "Who taught you that?" she demanded, sliding her fingers through his hair to hold him just where he was.

He smiled and did it again. "I never kiss and tell."

"I hate her, whoever she was."

"Maybe it was no one," he murmured, the words their own caress against her aroused flesh. "Maybe I've dreamed about tasting every part of you for weeks now."

She winced, picturing her B-cup boobs and bony shoulders. "Am I really too thin?"

He uttered a regretful sound against her breast, sliding her shirt up higher to taste her skin. "You're beautiful, Chloe. You're perfect. I just wanted you to admit you were having a hard time eating and sleeping like I was."

"Dirty pool, Detective, but I forgive you." She took his earlobe between her teeth and smiled when he shivered. And when his warm palms enclosed both her breasts, she forgot everything except the exquisite sensations coursing through her body.

Time passed. Desire grew. Chloe's fingers found and loosened the drawstring on his pajama bottoms, and slipped inside. And he was just as she knew he'd be. A_mazing. _

"Chance," she whispered, "I want to be naked with you."

She wasn't even aware she'd spoken until he lifted his head to look at her. Then everything skidded to a halt.

"I want it too, more than anything. It's just…_Christ_, Chloe, what are you--" He shuddered and caught the hand she'd slid inside his pants. "Whoa. Just a sec." Drawing that sinful hand to a safer place, he pressed it against his heart, which beat like a jack-hammer beneath her palm. Then he drew a shaky breath and went on. "We can't make love now. It's almost dawn. And we're in plain sight of my family, who are early risers." When she scowled, he gave a defeated sigh. "I'm sorry. But there'll be other times."

"No, you're right." She ran a finger along the edge of his jaw. "I guess these really aren't the ideal conditions."

"Not for what we both want." His lips caught hers, lingered for a sweet instant, then with a groan, he lifted free of her and helped her sit up. A smile lit his eyes as he smoothed her ravaged hair. "You look tumbled."

"So." She playfully smacked his hand aside and remedied the damage herself, then snatched her robe off the floor and slid into it, studying his beautiful face, those incredible lips, wanting to commit each feature to memory. "You look _kissed_. Those are some gorgeous lips you've got there. Much too pretty for a man."

"Hmm."

"I can't wait to see the rest of you, Captain."

"Sergeant," he corrected, then unable to help himself, caught her wrist and drew her down for one last kiss…which turned into a full-fledged embrace, mouths and hands searching new and dangerous places.

A faint wail floated to Chloe's ears and she stilled atop him, panting. "Chance, do you hear Delia?"

He tilted his head to listen. When the baby's cry came again, louder this time, he eased Chloe off his lap and rose to his feet, turned his back and adjusted himself, then faced her again with that military comportment she had come to adore. "She's waking up. You should go--we should go to bed. Separately, I mean." He ran a hand through his hair, his cheeks stained a faint pink in the firelight. "So. Thanks for…thanks."

"My pleasure." Smiling to herself, she tied her robe and backed toward the staircase, holding his gaze the whole way. Wanting him. Knowing she'd have to wait a while longer, but loving the sweet torture of it.

"I'll see you in the morning," he called after her, one hand pressed to his heart. "Sweet dreams."

Climbing the stairs, Chloe took a final, wistful look at him standing by the dying fire, his dark hair disheveled, that beautiful mouth well-kissed and smiling…

And all because of her.

(To be continued...maybe.)


End file.
